


If You Like It. . .

by ordinaryorbit



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: 5+1 Things, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25775395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ordinaryorbit/pseuds/ordinaryorbit
Summary: Five times Rafael notices Sonny's fingers, and one time he gets his whole hand.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 100





	If You Like It. . .

**1.**  
  
Rafael knows it’s a cliche to say that Italians talk with their hands, but Detective Carisi fits the stereotype. The two of them are seated across from one another, crammed into a round booth at Forlini’s with the rest of the squad. The newest member is telling a convoluted story involving his sisters, the Bronx Zoo, and a runaway penguin.  
  
As the detective talks, his hands wave animatedly. Rafael follows his right index finger in particular. It is the leader, drawing the rest of his hand through the air as if conducting the story.  
  
For just a bit, the detective’s straightforward enthusiasm makes Rafael feel a little less tired and a little less old. As he takes another sip of his scotch, he notices Olivia watching him watching Detective Carisi. Quickly he averts his gaze. He wouldn’t want her to get the wrong idea over a momentary indulgence.  
  
  
**2.**  
  
“What are these for?” Rafael asks as he peers into the pastry box at the neat row of cannolis.  
  
“It’s to thank you for letting me help with jury selection.”  
  
Rafael shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re thanking me when you’re the one giving up your evening to help me with my work?”  
  
Carisi falters slightly under the pushback, giving a hesitant shrug. “I mean, it’s great experience for me to learn more about how trials work. Besides, I thought we might need some sugary sustenance to get us through the evening.”  
  
Two hours in and Rafael is on his third cannoli. He and Carisi are punch drunk on tiredness and sugar. Carisi has started to give the potential jurors funny nicknames, and Rafael grins in spite of himself.   
  
He takes a large bite of the crispy, creamy dessert. As he chews, he notices Carisi is staring at him.  
  
“What is it, Detective?”  
  
“You’ve got a piece of ricotta stuck to the corner of your mouth.”  
  
“Where are my manners.”  
  
Before Rafael can reach for a tissue, Carisi is leaning over the table.  
  
“Here, let me.”  
  
The detective brushes at the offending ricotta, then unexpectedly proceeds to trace Rafael’s bottom lip. His thumb is warm and rough, and it makes Rafael’s skin tingle.  
  
“Oh shit.” Carisi looks horrified, as if his thumb has just taken action independently from his brain. “I’m so sorry, Barba. I don’t know what I was thinking.”  
  
“Don’t be.” On impulse, Rafael dabs at some of the remaining ricotta and then smears it across his lip. “I think you’d better get the rest off now.”  
  
  
**3.**  
  
Carisi’s middle finger is long and slender. Rafael feels his body clench possessively as it presses inside.   
  
“How is it?” Carisi asks, anxious.  
  
“It’s good, keep going,” Rafael replies with what he hopes is a touch of boredom. It simply would not do to lose his cool over being finger-fucked by this detective who is ten years his junior.  
  
But then the fingertip, like a homing pigeon drawn to its base, zeroes in on its target. Rafael gives a pleasured jolt.  
  
“There we are,” Carisi says, confidence building in his voice. His fingertip brushes fleetingly across the spot again, with just enough pressure to cause sparks but not enough to satisfy. It is a tease, and this man is a tease. A delicious one.  
  
Carisi’s finger continues its calculated dance until Rafael is trembling with unabashed need, mouth agape against the fitted sheet in a continuous moan.   
  
“Another finger.”  
  
Carisi gives a pleased laugh at the exhortation. He hems and haws a bit, as if considering. “Nah, you only get the one.”  
  
“And why is that?” Rafael demands through the haze, because his default mode is argumentative.  
  
“Because I say so?” Carisi lets the power hang in the air between them in a question mark. “Because I say so,” he repeats, claiming it.  
  
The finger withdraws partway. Rafael's hips buck up to chase it, dragging his heavy cock across the roughness of Carisi’s polyester sheets. But a hand to the small of his back pushes him firmly back down into the mattress, and he gives another moan at the no-nonsense handling.  
  
Rafael feels out of control, with all pretense of aloofness long forgotten. It’s confounding. How has Carisi managed to reduce his body to a molten mess with just a single digit?  
  
  
**4.**  
  
“Raf, I’m home!”  
  
It technically isn’t Sonny’s home, but given the number of nights he’s been staying over lately, his name might as well be on the lease. That’s why Rafael has waited to eat dinner, certain that Sonny will be joining him in their new domestic routine.  
  
“You’re late tonight, was everything all right at work?”  
  
“Yeah, we found our suspect in the Mullins case and took him into custody.”  
  
Rafael pads out of the living room to learn the details. Sonny is standing awkwardly, with one hand held partially behind his back. Rafael can see that there’s something wrapped around his pinky finger.  
  
“What’s that on your finger that you’re trying to hide from me?”  
  
“Oh it’s nothing, just a splint.”  
  
“What happened? Are you all right?” Rafael can hear that his voice is strained and rushed. But Sonny has never come home to him injured before.  
  
“I’m fine Raf. It’s just that our guy was a runner, so I had a bit of a tussle with him when I took him down, and my finger got busted. I’m not sure if it’s sprained or broken, but it should heal up pretty quick.”  
  
“How come you don’t know whether it’s broken or not? Didn’t they take an X-ray at the hospital?”  
  
Rafael takes a step forward to get a better look, and Sonny retreats a step back towards the wall.  
  
“Not exactly. . .”  
  
“What do you mean not exactly?”  
  
Rafael squints as he comes closer, finally able to get an unobstructed look.  
  
“Sonny, is that splint made out of popsicle sticks and masking tape? And don’t lie to me.”  
  
Sonny gives the world-weary sigh of a kid who has been caught raiding the cookie jar.  
  
“Yeah. Look, it’s not a big deal Raf. Rollins had some of these lying around her purse - turns out Jesse loves creamsicles - so we figured that would be the easiest way to set it.”  
  
Rafael feels his blood pressure rising by the second. “Sonny, are you telling me that instead of going to the hospital to get yourself checked out for a possible fracture, you let Rollins, who has no medical training, set your finger with her toddlers’ discarded popsicle sticks?”  
  
Sonny nods his head like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world. Though he must know it’s not, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so cagey.  
  
Rafael grabs his keys from the console and starts pulling on his shoes, even though he’s in his pajamas.  
  
“That’s it, we’re going to the emergency room right now.”  
  
“Raf, is that really necessary? You’re being worse than my ma about this. They can’t do much for a pinky anyway.”  
  
“Any part of you gets hurt and we’re getting it checked out. No argument. Come on, let’s go.”  
  
  
**5.**  
  
Rafael tries to be stealthy about it.  
  
He waits for a night where Sonny has worked a double shift and is sure to be bone-tired.  
  
Then he waits some more, until Sonny is deep in sleep and snoring gently.  
  
He comes armed with a new, miniature tape measure that he can slip unobtrusively around Sonny’s finger.  
  
The one thing that Rafael hasn’t planned for is the fact that he does not have night vision and so cannot see said tape measure, thus rendering it useless.  
  
Undeterred, he pulls his phone from his pocket and turns on its flashlight. He tries to keep it angled down, under the covers, like when he used to read surreptitiously in bed as a child. But he fumbles and the light shines directly in Sonny’s face.  
  
“What’s going on?” Sonny asks groggily as his eyes blink open.  
  
“Nothing!”  
  
Panicked, Rafael hurls the tape measure off the bed in an attempt to hide the evidence. He hears it hit the wall and fall on the floor.  
  
“Who’s there?!?” Sonny is on alert now and scrambling for the bedside cabinet where he keeps his gun locked up.  
  
“No one’s there babe, it’s just me.”  
  
“I heard something on the other side of the room, Raf.”  
  
“I swear it was just me.” Rafael eases Sonny back onto the bed before he can retrieve his gun and train it on the tape measure. “Turn the light on and let me show you.”  
  
Rafael climbs off the bed to retrieve the object in question.  
  
“What were you doing Raf, measuring my dick or somethin?”  
  
“What?!? No, of course not. Why would your mind go there? Plus, I already know how long your dick is.” He knows every glorious inch that stretches and fills him to capacity.  
  
“Then what were you measuring?” Sonny, bless him, does not seem irritated at being woken in the middle of the night, just weary and confused.  
  
Rafael turns the tape measure over in his hand, considering how much to give away. “I was trying to measure your finger. Specifically the circumference of your ring finger.”  
  
Sonny sits in silence for a minute, then a lightbulb seems to go off.  
  
“OH!” He looks stunned at the momentousness of it.  
  
Rafael swallows. Now that it’s out in the open, he might as well probe Sonny’s feelings on the matter.  
  
“If I were to hypothetically give you something to put on that finger, what would your response be?”  
  
He feels naked and exposed putting it out there, but he needs to know.  
  
“Are you _pre_ -posing to me, Raf?”  
  
“Well I was trying to keep it under wraps, but now that the cat’s out of the bag so to speak, I figure it doesn’t hurt to make sure we’re on the same page. So . . . what do you think about the idea of marrying me?”  
  
Sonny gives a broad smile that lights up his sleepy face.  
  
“I think that if you like it, then you better put a ring on it.”  
  
  
**+1**  
  
“Are you ready for our first dance?” his new husband asks softly.  
  
Rafael nods. “I’ve been ready for longer than you know.”  
  
“Let’s do this then.”  
  
Sonny reaches out to grasp Rafael’s hand in his own. The weight of it exudes comfort, and caring, and home. Rafael grips it back as they step out onto the dance floor to the applause of their family and friends.


End file.
